Julia had not been put in a room with her aunt, but down the hall from her. It was a pretty enough chamber she paced around now, glancing at the clock to check and recheck the time. Twenty minutes remained until they were to all reconvene for supper.
At least Laurence hadn’t come to the room sniffing after her. She’d gently put him off with the suggestion of propriety after the party the night before and she’d known he was upset. She wanted to label that as disappointment, see it as proof that he wanted her so desperately.
But it had beenangerthat had flashed over his expression when she refused him. It had flashed again when he’d made the inappropriate comment about them sleeping in his chamber before the wedding and she’d put him off once more.
“It will work itself out,” she told her reflection as she paced by the mirror once more. She paused there and smoothed her dress. She was wearing a teal gown, stitched with butterflies and flowers. It was a favorite of hers and had been easy enough to add a little extra fabric to the bodice so she wasn’t flaunting quite so much bosom. After she wed, she’d have a new wardrobe made. Something that covered her more and saidviscountessinstead ofcourtesan. Would that be enough? To change the costume?
Or would she have to entirely dismantle the person beneath, as well? Become a shell of who she’d always been and then fill that empty space up with only things Laurence liked and accepted.
She shook her head.
“Lord, you are maudlin,” she said to her reflection, and then exited the chamber.
She made her way through the twisting halls and down the stairs. She hadn’t been given a tour of the house yet. She hadn’t thought to ask and Laurence hadn’t offered after her arrival, so now she peeked into rooms to see their purpose.
Ultimately, she found a parlor off the hallway that had wine glasses and bottles arranged on the sideboard as a few servants bustled around. When they saw her at the door, they all stopped and stared at her.
“I’m very sorry,” she said with a smile she hoped would ease them. “You needn’t stop your work. I was trying to find where we’ll meet tonight before supper.”
“Here, Miss Comerford,” said one of the maids as she stepped forward. She looked Julia up and down and sniffed. “But you’re early. Perhaps you could find some other place to go.”
Julia stiffened. The words were sharp enough, but the tone was what showed the meaning. There was a haughtiness, a judgment to this young woman and her stares of disapproval.
She cleared her throat. “Is there a library?”
“Of course,” the maid said, and started to go back to her work.
Julia sighed. “Where is the library?”
“Down the hall, two doors on the left,” the young woman said even as she went back to arranging her glasses.
Julia pivoted and started up the hallway toward the library. Under any other circumstances she would be very pleased to spend a little time with books, but now her stomach churned and her eyes stung with humiliated tears.
This was the beginning of what would be many years to come. If even the servants sneered at her, what would those of rank do? At the party the night before they’d turned away and pulled little faces. It wouldn’t get better, it seemed. Probably it would only become worse.
She stepped into the library and let out a shaking sob as she moved to the fire and leaned a hand on the mantel. She needed to breathe and gather herself and get back to being calm and collected.
“Are you well, Miss Comerford?”
She jumped at the question, said from just over her shoulder. She pivoted and found Alexander Castleton standing at the bookshelf, a book dangling from his fingertips. He was watching her closely.
She almost swore because of course it would behimwho found her. Another person to despise her for her mere existence. She smoothed her dress and fought to find the control a life as a courtesan had helped her achieve.
“Ah, Mr. Castleton,” she said, and hated how her voice still trembled slightly. “I didn’t see you there.”
“No, I would wager not, the way you burst into the room like demons of hell were at your heels,” he said, and set the book back on the shelf. He stepped closer now, into the firelight.
He was a very handsome man. She had noticed that before, of course—it was a fact—but she always tempered it, distanced herself from it. But here in the quiet of the library, with her heart still hurting from a great many things, she saw it even more deeply.
He was taller than his cousin, with a lithe strength, lean and almost efficient, like he never let his body move in a way that wasted energy. He had dark brown hair and even darker brown eyes, eyes that were now locked on hers, searching there like he could find something she’d hidden.
She drew in a breath and turned her face. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your time with the books.”
“You’re not. Are you well?” he repeated the question.
“Of course,” she said, and forced herself to smile at him. “I’m perfectly well.”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” he mused, she felt almost to himself. “Did something happen to upset you?”
